


i'll fight the world just to see you smile

by cosettefauchelevents



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, Revenge fic, elizabeth is the secretary, excepting aunt agatha, i haven't been able to find the raw power to write aunt agatha yet, maybe i never will, ross poldark is the no.1 leader of the demelza defence squad, the whole poldark crew is here, there is a word for this kind of fic but i can't remember it, verity is the vice president
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 13:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4436483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosettefauchelevents/pseuds/cosettefauchelevents
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ross decides to throw a dinner party, and the infamous Ruth Treneglos gets more than she bargained for</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll fight the world just to see you smile

**Author's Note:**

> basically, this is me writing what I desperately wanted to happen between 1x04 and 1x05: ross actually sticking up for his (babe of a) wife.
> 
> alternatively titled “ross throws it down"

“Oh, Ross, you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t!”

“I did, and you can stop looking at me like that. They’re not wolves, Demelza. They can’t hurt you”

“Little do you know, you grew up with the likes of ‘em!”

“And I turned out alright, didn’t I?”

Demelza shook her head furiously, sending red curls flying everywhere. “ _You_ might have done, but there’s others I’d say different for, and you’ve only gone and invited the whole bloody lot of them over!”

“Demelza, it’s dinner, not a sacrificial ceremony!” Ross strode over to her, stopping short when he saw the look in her eyes. “Demelza?” he said, his tone softening. She sniffed.

“I know they’re your folks an’ all, but I never can get used to the idea of ‘em all sniffin’ around the place like they’re ashamed you live in it, and besides I wouldn’t know how to entertain ‘em all…”

“My love, I couldn’t give a damn what they think of Nampara and you know it, or you ought to by now. Verity will help you , you know she will, and she and Elizabeth won’t care a bit if we were eating in a straw hut with no entertainment at all! And Francis got over his disappointment in me months ago, and Aunt Agatha’s not to be taken any notice of, and…”

Demelza chuckled. “An’ I suppose you were about to say little Geoffrey Charles won’t be dinin’ wi’ us?”

Ross averted his eyes, and her laughter stopped abruptly. “Ross,” she said, her tone growing steely, “exactly who else is like to be dinin’ wi’ us?”

No-one had ever been able to outstare Demelza and survive, and Ross was no exception.

“Ruth Treneglos and her husband, and the Warleggans” he said weakly.

“Well now you’ve bloody well gone and done it, Ross. Ruth Treneglos in this ‘ouse? She’d as soon ‘ave her eyes out!”

“As a matter of fact,” Ross said, smirking, “she seemed delighted by the invitation.”

“Delighted to be able to see what- what _squalor_ we be livin’ in, I’d wager,” Demelza fired back, shaking her head. “Oh, Ross, can’t you just tell ‘em I’m ill?”

“You look in the bloom of health to me,” he said, catching her by the chin and kissing her. “In fact, you look splendid, you’d put Ruth Treneglos to shame any time she cares to call.”

“Fine words butter no parsnips” she muttered, her arms snaking around his neck.

Demelza was still annoyed the next day; she slammed things down with more ferocity than usual, flew around the house like a whirlwind throwing cloths and water around, and scarcely had time to smile at Ross when he came home.

“What’s all this industry for?” he asked, drinking his usual brandy as he watched her kneading dough with a feverish speed more in common with Garrick digging for bones than her usual calm grace.

“Ross,” she panted, looking up through her haze of red curls “you are aware of wha’ day it is, are you not?”

“Is there any reason why I should?”

“Today, _milord_ , is Thursday, and you’ve invited the whole bloody county to come callin’ on Saturday!”

“That’s in two days!”

“An’ in those two days there’s shopping to be done, the windows to be cleaned, pies to be baked, linens to be washed and I don’t know what else!”

Suddenly he noticed the look on her face. “My love? What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’, Ross, it’s just that I be so… so _scared_ of lettin’ you down, tha’s all-“

It felt like a knife in his gut, the knowledge that he was hurting her. It was easy to forget that to the outside world their relationship was a taboo one, even though it seemed utterly normal to him: within the fields and walls of Nampara with her he was the happiest he had ever been, and no-one, be they society, family or otherwise, was going to make her feel ashamed of herself.

He crossed the kitchen and grabbed her hands, ignoring the dusting of flour coating them. Her forehead was cool on his own and he could feel her breath mingling with his, warm in the cold kitchen. Who was it that said you could breathe your soul out? If so, he’d give it willingly, for who better to take care of that tarnished unworthy soul than this girl as golden as the sun, as good as any saint and as full of fire as any star, who thinks herself so below him but is so much more than he could ever deserve.

“Look at me,” he said, trying desperately to say something, anything, to make her understand that she is the best thing he has ever had the privilege to call his own. “Demelza, you could never let me down, not ever. Can’t you see? You raise me up.”

Her eyes were colour of rock pools, of the clear tide on a summer’s day, and one look and he was drowning. “You make me a better man, my love, all because I’m trying to be worthy of you, and I’m sorry that people can’t see that, but I swear to you: it doesn’t make a jot of difference whether you were born in a pigsty or a palace- you are my wife, Demelza, and I love you.”

He kissed her, and in her lips he felt that she loved him too.

“I’ll go and collect Verity first thing tomorrow morning: she’ll know about how to arrange things, I think. Would that help? I can’t tell you how much I regret asking them without consulting you first, Demelza, seeing you under so much strain.”

“Oh, Verity’d be such a help! An’ don’t be silly: tis just the bairn making me grumpy, that’s all. O’course, t’would be nice if you told me things, given I’m your wife an’ all…” She dimpled up at him mischievously, and the social torture of Saturday suddenly seemed miles away.

Verity was a help, as they’d known she would be: she soon set Demelza’s mind to rest about how much this, how many that, where they should sit, when they should dine and all the other seemingly insignificant things that came along with planning a dinner party.

Ross stayed out of their way, preferring to watch his wife’s face light up in laughter from the side-lines, where he could stare without being mocked mercilessly by both Verity and Demelza. By the time Verity had left, still laughing about some joke that they’d shared, the house felt as calm as it ever had: a welcome contrast to the anxious, frenetic energy of the day before.

Demelza curled up beside him that night, her skin warm on his, and he buried his face in her miraculous curls. She smelt as she always did: of salt and sea air, flowers from her garden, sunlight and breezes and Demelza. He couldn’t think of a time when he’d ever been happier, and the thought was to get him through the next day.

Demelza was already awake and dressing by the time he awoke the next morning, and he lazed for a while, finding the way she was still so shy about dressing in front of him utterly endearing. He loved watching her get ready for the day: watching her change from the open-hearted, candlelight Demelza of the night to the blazing, mysterious one of the sunshine. She turned from where she was brushing her hair to grin at him over one thin shoulder. “Come on then, don’t just be laid there- don’t you know your family’s comin’?”

So they were, and as the first sound of horse’s hooves rang from the fields he and Demelza instinctively sought each other’s hands as they stood waiting outside the front door.

The other Poldarks were the first to arrive: Verity practically leaping from her horse to embrace Demelza, who relinquished Ross’ hand with no small measure of regret, Francis dismounting somewhat stiffly to help Elizabeth down,who looked as regal and unruffled as ever.

“My dear,” Elizabeth said, clasping Demelza’s hands, “it was so good of you to invite us.” Demelza’s eyes flashed, and for a second Ross was sure she was going to tell Elizabeth exactly who had done the inviting, but she merely smiled her most charming smile and said “Twas our pleasure, especially after you invitin’ us for Christmas- an’ family should stick together, shouldn’t they?”

“Indeed they should,” said Elizabeth, and there was a brief silence as Demelza tried to remember if they should all go inside now or wait for the others.

“But where is Aunt Agatha?” asked Ross, breaking the quiet. “Surely you can’t have lost her already?”

“She wasn’t quite feeling up to the journey,” said Verity, “and we thought it best to leave her to grouse in peace, rather than in company.”

“A decision you may live to regret, given approaching company,” Ross murmured, spotting the Warleggan coach on the horizon. It was one of his great pleasures to watch his elderly aunt loudly and bluntly insult whichever Warleggan happened to be nearby, manners be damned.

She would have been disappointed, however, as Warleggan pickings proved to be scarce: only one stepped out the carriage, though he was followed by both the Treneglos’s.

“Terribly sorry for our tardiness, Ross, but your lanes are not awfully well situated for carriages!”

George Warleggan looked around almost proprietorially as he stepped down, as if sizing up Nampara for when it was his, as he evidentially hoped all Cornwall would be soon.

Not over my dead body, thought Ross, gritting his teeth and yanking a smile onto his face as he went to greet them. “We don’t have much call for carriages around here, George- we manage with just horses very well.”

“But, Mistress Poldark, how do you fare when taking your carriage into town?” asked Ruth Treneglos, her spiteful face the picture of malevolent innocence.

She means to embarrass her for not having a carriage, Ross saw instantly, and was about to leap to her aid when Demelza spoke.

“Oh, we see no need for havin’ a carriage round ‘ere: my horse does plenty well enough, and besides, I find the exercise most refreshing, don’t you think Verity?”

Verity smiled and nodded as all eyes went to Ruth.

“Well, how-how quaint, I’m sure,” muttered Mrs Treneglos, evidentially wrong-footed by Demelza’s ability to play her own game so well.

She tried to attach herself to Ross as they went in, but he slid from her grasp and reached for Demelza’s hand just as she reached for his.

The parlour had been newly scrubbed and cleaned, and with Demelza’s ever present flowers looked as presentable as could have been wished, so it was there they led their guests to mingle and chatter whilst Demelza hurried to the kitchen to check all was ready. Ross found himself amiably engaged in small talk of crops and yields with John Treneglos, whilst all the while keeping an eye on Ruth, who had managed to drag Elizabeth and Verity into her orbit.

 Her eyes flashed as she muttered and giggled to them, whilst Elizabeth looked increasingly uncomfortable and Verity incensed. Slowly, he managed to wander his way over to them without being observed, John chattering all the while.

“One does wonder if he is happy with her, does one not? _Such_ an unconventional marriage, and to one quite so…lowly, it would hardly be remiss of him to be discontented.”

_So she’s started trying to damage us already_ , he thought with grim satisfaction, and was relived of this train of thought by Demelza’s appearance in the doorway.

“Dinner’s ready, if you’ll all take your places” she called, her hair a halo as she stood silhouetted in the entrance.

“Have you been going back to your old ways, Mistress Poldark? I believe I heard you in the kitchen just then!” said Ruth slyly as they took their places. Ross wanted to wring her throat.

Demelza, to her credit, didn’t even flush, merely looked her straight in the eye. “Yes indeed ma’am you did, I like to ensure everythin’ s in order when we’re to have company: why, I find I can listen perfectly well to conversation in here at the same time, and so I be workin’ as efficiently as any man down the mines!”

The room erupted into laughter, and Ruth subsided into silence after that, as the first course came and was devoured. Glancing down the table, Ross could see Demelza fairly glowing with pride as she was complimented on everything from the flowers to the food. But Ruth was not so easily deterred, and, whilst Demelza was occupied chattering to Elizabeth, began steadily and determinedly flirting with Ross. “Why, Captain, you have not yet accepted Mama and I’s invitation for tea! We shall be forced to believe you have not the liking for us!” she pouted, and Ross suddenly felt a spark of Demelza’s mischief.

“Well, Madam, I should be delighted to attend, but you understand my enjoyment can only be complete within the company of my dearest wife, whom I believe has not yet been offered an invitation?”

Conversation petered out as slowly the room turned as one to stare at Ruth, clearly caught between manners and personal hatred. He caught Demelza’s eye and grinned to see her choking back laughter as Ruth stuttered her way through a begrudging invitation.

Ruth tried all through the meal through various tactics to embarrass Demelza and ingratiate herself with Ross, but was met with thinly concealed mockery and unflinching courtesy by one and stony politeness by the other: Ross considered it the most fun he’d ever had in polite society. It was whilst Demelza was supervising the main course, however, that she pushed him over the edge.

 Ruth was whispering noisily to George Warleggan, (who, Ross was surprised to note, looked merely bored with the whole arrangement) when Ross heard her say “He simply can’t be happy, one feels: gentlemen never can be when their –ehem- _needs_ aren’t met, and though I suppose that’s what got him into this mess in the first place she’s hardly a ravishing beauty.”

White-hot rage burned before his eyes, and he heard a tiny intake of breath from his left. Verity nudged him under the table and he heard her whisper “Ross- Demelza heard her, I know she did, I just saw her face: oh, Ross, I do believe she might be crying!”

She sounded as shocked as Ross had ever heard her, and no wonder: Demelza never cried in front of anyone if she could help it, and she was opposed to crying out of sorrow on sheer principle. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, trying to restrain his anger and settling for gripping the table with whitening knuckles, “I believe my wife has need of my assistance.”

He almost ran from the room, nearly knocking over Jinny in his haste to find her.

She was in the pantry, her face as white as linen, tears silently streaking her cheeks. Ross nearly crushed her, holding her to him as tightly as he could as her tears soaked his shirt.

“Demelza, my love, you know it isn’t true, you know she’s just a jealous sour puss of a woman who can’t stand that everyone in the room prefers you to her!”

She merely sniffed in response, and he held her at arm’s length so he could see her face, beautiful and ashen in the fading light. “Demelza, if you think for one minute that I’m unhappy with you-that my- my _needs_ aren’t being met-that I don’t think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen- then you’re just as much of a fool as she is.”

She smiled then, a shaft of sunlight in the dark room, and wiped a sleeve roughly under her eyes. “Thank you,” she said in a small voice, and kissed him as only she could.

By the time dessert came around, Demelza was as radiant as ever, holding court at one end of the table as Ruth frantically tried to deflect it to her end. Despite her seeming recovery, Ross was still furiously angry at Ruth for the pain she had caused Demelza, and resolved not to let her leave the house until she had paid at least in part for the salt water staining his coat and Demelza’s sleeve.

Over coffee, he had the idea. Tapping on his wine glass with the silverware, he stood up and waited for silence. “I’d like to thank you all for coming here today: I realise that, for some, it might have been the most inconvenient ride of your existences .” He paused for laughter, watching John Treneglos turn faintly pink and George Warleggan smile sardonically. “I hope you’ve all had your fill of my hard-earned vittles, and that we won’t send you home too hungry. I also realise that, for most of you, this is the first time you have ever been entertained by me.

“I haven’t been the most social of people since my return from the war. The fact that you are all here today, and that no-one has been killed, is all down to my remarkable wife.”

He turned to smile at Demelza, who looked as shocked as if he’d suddenly taken leave of his senses, tap danced in his shirt and breeches on the tabletop and confessed his love to George Warleggan.

“My wife, Demelza, was perhaps not the choice my family would have liked me to make; nor was she the one society expected of me. Yet she is, and will remain, the only person I would ever countenance being my wife, and I will not make apologies for that. She has made me into a better man, and for that alone I will be in her debt for centuries. She is my anchor and my friend, and I hope in coming here today you see that my choice was indeed a worthy one. A toast, if you please, my friends, to my beautiful Demelza!”

“To Demelza” echoed around the room, as Ross tried to supress a laugh at the look on Ruth Teague’s face.

“Not to bore you any further, as I know you will all wish to be home shortly, but I would like to propose another toast. You see, we are not only eight in this room: we are nine.”

There was a moment of confusion as everyone checked to see if the basic arithmetic their governess’s had taught them was still holding: all, that is, except Demelza, who sat very still and quiet.

“What I mean to say, my friends, is that there will shortly, God willing, be a new Poldark at Nampara soon! A toast, if you will, to my unborn child, and another to my wife for being so good as to provide one.”

There was instant uproar as all the women surged towards Demelza, the men to congratulate Ross.

_Take that, Ruth Treneglos. There go your odd ideas of my not liking my wife._

When they had all gone, Elizabeth with many promises of visits to Nampara and Trenwith to compare childbirth, Ross gave in to the urge he had been holding in for so many hours and ran to Demelza, picking her up and gently whirling her around with glee at having successfully rendered his immediate family and friends speechless.

In return, Demelza threw her arms around his neck and peppered his face with kisses, all the while whispering “You daft old mare… you’re getting sentimental in your old age, you are…oh Ross, thank you, _thank you_ ”

Suddenly she gasped, and Ross’s heart constricted with terror. “Oh, oh oh! Ross, the bairn- it’s moving!” She grabbed his hand and placed it on her stomach, and, sure enough, through the layers of cloth he felt his child wriggling with a zest for life that matched Demelza’s perfectly.

“And now it’s me who must be thanking you” he murmured against her lips, and silently thanked every one of his lucky stars for granting him this perfect, incredible happiness.


End file.
